


Garrideb

by Boton



Series: Life in Sussex [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem, Story: The Adventure of the Three Garridebs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 20:57:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10344414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boton/pseuds/Boton
Summary: Sherlock has invited Janine along on a case; but when his past comes back to haunt him, will it hurt her as well?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maryagrawatson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maryagrawatson/gifts).



> Rated T for not-terribly-graphic violence.
> 
> This story takes place approximately three years after the events of the episode "The Final Problem."  
> **  
> Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes and his universe are the creation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Sherlock is the creation of the BBC and its partners, and of co-creators Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss. This work is for my pleasure and that of my readers; I am not profiting from the intellectual property of those creators listed above.

“If I told you that I said, ‘It’s not you, it’s me,’ what would you think?" 

Sherlock dug his small spoon determinedly into his cup of mint chip ice cream, intent on observing it for malicious intent, or perhaps just unwilling to meet his companion’s eyes.

“Did you now?” asked Janine, long dark hair swinging back behind her as she swirled her tongue over her own spoon. Her flavor was something luridly pink – some sort of berry flavor – although the neon color moderated to something not wholly unpleasing when it touched her lips, Sherlock noted. 

“No, I didn’t,” Sherlock admitted. “But she did. And, what’s more, she was right.”

“Ah,” Janine gasped in sympathy. “Hell of a way for your first break-up to go. Why do you think she was right?”

Sherlock set his ice cream cup down beside him and briefly steepled his hands under his chin before turning to make eye contact with Janine. He’d been doing that more and more, she thought. Ever since the events at Sherrinford three years ago, he’d been slowly climbing out of his emotional shell, making attempts to connect. She knew most of it: the terrible obstacle course that Eurus had put Sherlock through, the repressed events of his own childhood, his current regular visits to speak with his sister in the only language she would now acknowledge. It had changed him, and his first attempts at dating, so predictably centered on Molly, were just part of the process.

“Molly is,” Sherlock faltered. “Wonderful. The kindest human being I’ve ever met, but with this inner core of steel that is unbreakable. She would follow me into the depths of hell and never question why we were there.”

“But?” Janine probed.

“But, she deserves better. Or different. Or something,” Sherlock said. “She’s the kind of woman who needs a man who brings her flowers once in a while, or who wants to sit at dinner and talk about her day.”

“Not some self-involved berk who can get wrapped up in an experiment and forget to eat for three days, to say nothing of trading office gossip?” Janine said with a smile.

“Something like that,” Sherlock smiled back. “I’ve changed, and I wanted to be with her, but I didn’t get a personality transplant out at Sherrinford. I’m still me, and I’m afraid ‘still me’ isn’t quite what Molly wants.”

There was a long pause, and then Sherlock added quietly. “And she wants children. And she should have them.”

Janine looked at him seriously. “And you don’t?”

“I’m 43 years old,” Sherlock said. “I love Rosie Watson like she was my own, but I can’t imagine living through school homework every night, not being able to go out on a case unless I found a baby sitter. Plus, I’ve told you about our family’s mental health; is that really something I want to chance passing to an innocent child?”

“I see,” Janine said simply.

“Do you?” Sherlock asked. “What about you?”

Janine pulled a leg under her and looked out onto Regent’s Park. “For a long time, I did. Want children, that is. But one day, it just sort of . . . stopped. I think maybe I’d much rather have what I have, on its own terms, than try to force something that’s maybe not supposed to be.”

Sherlock reached over and placed his hand on top of hers with a brief squeeze, then pulled it away. He wasn’t the most physically demonstrative of friends, but, like so many things, he had changed slightly over the past three years.

“So,” he said definitively.

“So?” she responded.

“I need your help. I have a case coming up, and I need an assistant.”

“What about John? Too busy building blanket forts?”

“No, for this, I need a disguise.”

“I don’t follow,” Janine said, her forehead wrinkling.

“If Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson show up at a charity gala, it will be obvious that we are on a case. But if I show up with a beautiful woman on my arm, it may just look like I’m there under duress at the behest of my brother.”

Janine’s laughter peeled out. “Sherlock Holmes, that is the worse invitation I have ever received in my life!”

“Even from a self-involved berk?” he asked. “And you will need a suitable gown.”

With that, Janine hopped to her feet and reached for his hand. “Shopping, then! And you’re paying!”

Tucking her hand through his arm, he strode off with her. “Absolutely,” he said.


	2. Chapter 2

The doors to the private club swung open, revealing Sherlock and Janine. Sherlock was dapper and elegant in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, but he was hardly noticeable next to Janine, who sailed in like she graced his arm every day. Her gown was a glowing, diaphanous creation of moth green that swept the floor, featuring a long slit that showcased her shapely leg with every step, and one bared shoulder. The effect was much like a painting of a Greek goddess, and it was clear that she was in her element.

“You’ve spoiled me here, Sherl. Not that I don’t deserve it,” she said with a grin, “but the dress was quite enough. The earrings were too much.” She lightly touched the sparkling drops hanging from her ears.

“Rule one of going undercover,” Sherlock said. “Your disguise must be completely authentic even if you are not.”

“Are you tryin’ to say that I don’t belong at a posh charity function?” she said, grin still in place.

“I’m saying that I do not belong here, and you are strategic cover,” he replied.

“OK, then, to work,” she said. “Now, I thought the business with the Garrideb brothers was put to rest with all that nastiness at Sherrinford.”

“It is true,” Sherlock said with a grimace, “that Eurus forced us to make quick work of the three brothers. Fortunately for us,” he said, again with a slight look of pain, “none of them had made much of an impact on their world, and none had married, so it was quick work for Mycroft to cover up.”

“However,” he continued, “what we didn’t know about the family was the presence of an American cousin, John Garrideb. John has apparently done well with himself, and like many Americans, he’s litigious. Mycroft has caught wind of his intention to file a wrongful death suit, which would ultimately expose the entire affair with Eurus. He is using the excuse of a business trip to the U.K. to gather data on his cousins’ deaths; what we don’t know, and what you and I are going to find out tonight, is exactly how much he knows and suspects.”

Sherlock nodded across the room to the wood-paneled bar, where a tall, dark-haired American held a gin and tonic and was laughing at his companions’ conversation.

“Then you need me to go in and work my magic,” Janine said. “It’s pretty unlikely that he would fail to recognize Sherlock Holmes, but I’ll bet I can get him to talk,” she said, disengaging her arm and sailing across the room, where she was quickly surrounded by men, a drink pressed into her hand and her laughter peeling across the room.

Sometime later, Janine found Sherlock standing leaning against the tall manor fireplace, fiddling with the intricate carvings. The tall American was in tow.

“Sherlock Holmes, I’d like you to meet John Garrideb,” she made the introduction. “John’s been telling me all about a mystery that he’s been trying to solve; since this is right up your alley, I thought you’d like to hear.” Janine gave Sherlock a significant look as the men shook hands.

“Oh, I’m sure this is nothing that would interest the great detective Mr. Holmes,” Garrideb said. "Just some confusion about negligence at a place of business, but you might like to see what I’ve uncovered. Would you like to step into the library?” he said.

Sherlock and Janine preceded Garrideb into the library, and they heard the door close and lock behind them. As they turned, they saw Garrideb pull a small gun from a pocket holster inside his jacket.

“I’m not as stupid as your girlfriend seems to think,” he said, pointing the small pistol at Sherlock. “I know exactly who you are, and I know you were involved with the death of my cousins. I also know that your brother is adept at making this kind of thing disappear. I wonder how he would feel if I made his little brother do likewise?”

Sherlock took a step, separating himself from Janine. “If you know what happened, then you know that it was an act undertaken by someone psychologically compromised. Committing murder won’t bring them back.”

“No,” Garrideb said, “but it will satisfy a certain need for revenge. But now that I look, I wonder if it is your brother who needs to learn a lesson after all. Maybe, it’s the famous detective who needs to learn what it’s like to lose someone,” 

With that, Garrideb swung somewhat awkwardly toward Janine, pulling the trigger as she flinched away. Janine fell backward as the bullet hit, clutching her thigh. As Sherlock watched, a pool of blood reddened the green fabric of her gown as she gasped from the shock of the attack.

Sherlock strode across the room in three steps, pushing Garrideb against the wall with one hand and grabbing the pistol with the other. With one swing, he hit Garrideb in the temple with the gun, sending him crumpling in a heap on the floor, then pointed the gun at him.

“How badly are you hurt,” he asked tightly, looking back at Janine as he extracted his phone from his pocket.

“I’m fine, Sherl,” she said, wincing. “Well, mostly, anyway.”

Garrideb stirred on the floor and began to roll to his feet, but Sherlock moved his finger purposely to the trigger, activating the laser sight and training a red dot on Garrideb’s forehead.

“Don’t move,” he said, hitting speed dial with one finger of his left hand. 

When the call connected, Sherlock spoke quickly. “Lestrade, there’s been an attempted murder. The culprit, an American you may have heard of by the name of John Garrideb, has been subdued, and I am holding him, but I need a team here quickly. I also need an ambulance,” he said, quickly giving the address.

Garrideb moved again, and Sherlock gestured for him to stay down. “No, Lestrade, I don’t have a ‘thing’ for holding Americans at gunpoint, but good guess,” he said sarcastically. Then, more seriously, he said, “Greg, hurry; it’s Janine.” He hung up the phone and returned it to his pocket, backing quickly to Janine’s side while holding the laser point steady on Garrideb’s forehead.

“Janine, tell me what happened,” he said, pulling a throw from the library couch and using it to staunch the blood and provide pressure. 

“He got me in the leg; that’s all,” Janine said, wincing at the pressure. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

Sherlock continued to hold pressure on Janine’s leg and a steady bead on Garrideb until Lestrade’s men and the ambulance crew arrived some minutes later. Once he was sure that Janine was cared for, he finally permitted the officers to handcuff Garrideb, but, before Janine and Garrideb could both be taken away, he held up his hand and approached the now-handcuffed American.

“If you had hurt her,” he said, leaning into Garrideb’s face with cold intensity. “If she had not made out of this room alive, so help me, neither would you have done,” he said, looking intently into Garrideb’s eyes. He nodded to Lestrade’s men to take the prisoner, and Janine, who had been watching from the trolley, turned her face back to center, and promptly lost consciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

When Janine woke up, her head was pounding and her mouth felt furry; for a moment, she thought she’d had too much to drink, until the nerve endings in her leg kicked in, and she felt the beginnings of post-surgical pain, sharp and dull simultaneously. But the memory of the previous evening (Was it previous? It was dark outside now.) didn’t kick in until she rolled her head to the left and saw Sherlock’s still form.

Sherlock wasn’t holding her hand. He wasn’t pacing the floor or running his fingers through his hair. He hadn’t fallen asleep with his head against her mattress; he didn’t even look particularly disheveled. Only the fact that the ends of his bow tie now hung loose around his neck and there was a small smear of blood on his shirt cuff gave any indication of the amount of time he had been there and the events surrounding the altercation.

He was, however, looking at her intently, almost piercingly, looking for all the world as if she were one of his experiments in a petri dish and he were observing closely for a reaction. When Janine opened her eyes, Sherlock rose gracefully from his chair, silently pushed the button to raise the head of the bed, and handed her a ginger ale, already open and with a straw. He watched her drink, then took the beverage back and set it on the side table, never once taking his eyes off her.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. We were gathering data, nothing more,” he said quietly, his hand trailing the edge of the mattress.

“Sherl,” she began.

“No,” he interrupted. “You were never to be put in any danger. This was a fact-finding mission; that’s the only reason I took you. I would do a little work, you’d get to dress up; it would be,” he swallowed, briefly. “Fun.” 

“It was fun,” Janine protested, capturing his hand and stopping him from rolling the sheet between his fingers. “Well, up ‘til the whole shooting thing. But it was fun to be included on one of your cases, to see you do your thing. I wouldn’t have missed it.”

“You should never have been in any danger,” he said, a bit more heatedly. “If he had really harmed you . . .”

“But he didn’t,” Janine said, pushing herself higher on the bed and wincing. “Did he? I’m almost afraid to look,” she said, feeling the bandage on her thigh gingerly but not pulling the covers back.

“You required surgery to remove the bullet slug from your thigh, but there was no damage to any nerves or vessels. Luckily, Mr. Garrideb carries a very small caliber handgun and is a lousy shot,” Sherlock said with a brief smile. “You’ll have a scar, though.”

“Ah, there goes my modeling career,” she smiled back.

“Certainly not!” Sherlock smiled. “Who would be able to resist a woman who is both beautiful and able to hold her own in a gunfight?”

Janine laughed, but she saw Sherlock’s smile drop as he muttered, “I could have lost you. I can’t keep putting those I care about in danger.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Janine said in a false breezy tone. “I’m kind of glad it happened.”

Sherlock’s head snapped up from where it had settled, eyes fixed on the blankets concealing the bandaging beneath. He stared at her.

“I figure it was worth getting shot in the leg just to see you like this,” she said, grabbing his hand a little harder. “I think you really do care, and that’s something I’ve been waiting to see,” she said.

Sherlock sat back down in his chair, but he didn’t release Janine’s hand. And, when she drifted back to sleep, he kept holding it.

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write a version of "The Three Garridebs" since I got into this fandom and started reading ACD canon, but there are only so many ways you can spin the whole Holmes and Watson emotional story, and most have them have been done and done well. Finally, I think I thought of a unique spin!
> 
> This story is the result of conversations with maryagrawatson, with whom I discussed the idea that Sherlock and Molly would become an item, but I didn't believe it would last, leaving him free to eventually raise bees with her in Sussex Downs. As such, it is probably a sort of prequel to some of my other Sherlock/Janine works, and I'm putting it in that series.
> 
> maryagrawatson, this is also pretty much John-free, so I hope you can enjoy this story without unnecessary frustration! :-)


End file.
